


Demon of the Night Wind

by SkatterJack



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkatterJack/pseuds/SkatterJack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the run-up to the mission on Lesuss, Liara considers her past, Justicars she has known, and recalls events from ME 1 and ME 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue to the Mission

_Prologue to the Mission_

Once, early in their relationship, Shepard had asked her why she hadn’t taken a lover before.  How could she explain? She had told Shepard it was because she’d been socially awkward, that as the daughter of a powerful  matriarch, she’d been isolated and judged, but although these were true things, it wasn’t the real truth. She closed her eyes and her lips twisted into a bitter smirk. Lady Benezia’s purebood daughter. Strange maiden, that one. Now, drowsing with Shepard after sex – after death and after resurrection, faced with an existential threat – it was time for the whole truth. Liara opened her mind to Shepard and shared a memory.

***

_It had been hot, the summer she turned fifty. There was a ruin – a semicircle of of old, broken-down foundations on the outskirts of the estate, and Liara had set up a small dig. The origins and uses of the buildings weren’t known, and Liara was half-hoping she might unearth some clues to early asari settlement patterns. Amateurish, she knew, but digging was the only thing that brought her peace.  She’d been living in a primitive camp she’d set up near the ruins, and every few weeks, she’d slip into the pantry of the main house for supplies. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in nearly a year, although she’d always left a note behind, listing what she’d taken and thanking Benezia for the support. It was the kind of courtesy her mother had always insisted on, and if she wanted to read irony into the tone, well, Liara couldn’t help that._

_She had been painstakingly methodical in her excavation, setting up the grid, brushing and sifting, taking precise notes. On this day, one of a wave of torrid days, she should have taken shelter from the sun and caught up on her paperwork. But her moods had been erratic, as were her biotics, flaring and failing unpredictably. She’d been working from dawn to dusk, and had not stopped to bathe. She squatted, scooped a level trowel of soil, transferred it to the basket of an old sample analyzer she’d bought from a miner. If her theories were correct, her excavation would soon uncover the central hearth of the settlement._

Liara <sighed>, sympathizing with her youthful self. _Goddess, how did anyone ever survive puberty, the torrent of emotions, the dizzying mood swings?_ She could feel Shepard’s <grin>, and she returned her focus to the specific memory.

_It was hot. She was filthy, her hips wrapped in a dirty rag, another wrapped around her head to shield her crest from the sun. Usually, she’d have unconsciously projected a biotic sunblock where her skin was exposed, but her powers had been so erratic she had covered herself in a thin paste. And her temper had been volcanic. She could see so clearly in her memory the fragile fragment she had uncovered - a lip and a delicate rim, as though from a cup or a small bowl - the analyzer had still been chugging out its report. Liara could already make out part of a decorative image – a brow, a tender eye, etched into the piece – perhaps the gaze of Athame’s lover? But as she reached into the specimen hopper to retrieve the fragment, her biotics flared suddenly and it crumbled to dust before her fingers touched it._

_And at that very moment, stunned with failure and rage, fierce blue biotic flames searing across her skin and a wild curse of disbelief ripping from her throat…_

_…Liara heard her mother calling her from the edge of the dig, and looked up, shading her eyes with one grimy hand.  There was another asari with her mother, a cold-eyed matriarch in gleaming, fitted ebony armor._

_***_

_“Little mouse, you have company!” Liara froze, her mind racing. She had learned the codewords as a toddler. As the daughter of a powerful politician, the threat of kidnapping or assassination had been facts of life for Liara, and family security was a serious matter. If Benezia called her a mouse, it meant she was in danger, and that she should stay small and watchful, alert for opportunity.  And the phrase ‘having company’ meant she should discipline her mind; a powerful matriarch didn’t need to meld fully to pick up stray thoughts or images._

_“Lady Mother, thank you for your visit.” Liara moved to stand in front of Benezia, then sank to her knees, using the formalities as an opportunity to order her thoughts. “Please, I would dress myself and offer tea in the shade of my tent.”_

_Without warning, Liara felt biotic cuffs grip her wrists behind her, then yank them sharply down and back. Helpless, kneeling, her back arched and her breasts thrust forward, Liara was acutely aware of her breasts and of the loose, uncertain drape of the rag around her hips.  Her mother stepped back, silent._

_“Little mouse, little mouse, what are you hiding out here?” The voice of the stranger was soft and threatening.  Liara was shocked to feel a jolt, a thrill run through her – she had never been bound before. She didn’t know how to answer the question, so she kept silent. Being held like this was electrifying; she’d never realized…_

_“Justicar.” Her mother said, her tone neutral. Liara wasn’t sure if she was just identifying the stranger for Liara, or if she intended the comment as an intercession of some sort._

_“Justicar.” The stranger agreed. “I am Phora. And you are Liara T’Soni, the pureblood spawn of a saint and a monster, and according to the rumors, either a genius or an idiot. Perhaps both. And you are ripened, and so here I am.”_

_And suddenly Liara knew, felt in her core, how she would play this. She relaxed, patient, feeling the discomfort of her restraint transform itself into a burn, and then into erotic warmth. She closed her eyes, and let her head tilt back slightly, exposing her throat. She waited, sensing that any speech would provoke a reaction, and wanting to time that reaction to her own advantage. Phora had mentioned her other parent. There was much to learn._

_“So, little mouse, little pureblood, are you a demon or an angel?” Phora’s lips were close to the sensitive folds at the back of her neck, and the ice in her voice sent another wave of pleasure through her. Liara wondered why she wasn’t embarrassed or self-conscious about what she’d just discovered about herself, about her desires. Instead, it seemed to explain everything - her indifference to casual sex or soft experiments with peers, why she never even seemed to notice anyone as a potential lover. She felt exhilarated, energized. Phora’s biotics weren’t as powerful as her mother’s -  she could feel it. Or mine! she realized suddenly, and it was true; she remained bound because she allowed it, not because Phora could actually hold her for long. She would need a lover who could match her, could master her. Someone worth it. She kept her posture still and submissive, and waited for her opportunity._

_She knew her calm obedience confounded the Justicar. Phora was a simple bully, accustomed to to frightened girls. She had expected Liara to argue or weep, to struggle against her biotic restraints. Instead, Liara considered her future. Phora was weak, and weak-minded. Liara began to imagine, for the first time, the possibility of someone else – powerful, dangerous -  someone she could, someone who would… She imagined a commanding presence - Turian? Krogan? - pictured herself kneeling – doing what?  As Liara dreamed, the silence stretched into long minutes. Liara could feel Phora’s confusion build._

_Then Benezia spoke.  “The utter indifference to consequence consecrates the judgment of the Justicar. This is signified by three attributes: The practice of discernment, the practice of reason, the practice of restraint in all things.” Again, her voice was neutral, but Liara heard her subtle emphasis._

_“The Second Sutra of the Code of the Justicar,” Phora acknowledged. “And apparently, your little mouse has an affinity for restraint.” She brushed the back of her hand over Liara’s cheek, then stroked slowly down Liara’s neck to her breasts, cupping one, then suddenly pinching her nipple. Liara gasped at the jolt of exquisitely pleasurable pain, then she carefully, conspicuously stilled herself, and settled herself back into the pull of Phora’s biotic cuffs, biting her lower lip prettily and keeping her eyes closed.  Phora was a fool, but she was powerful enough to pick up stray thoughts without a full meld. Liara went back to her fantasy. Her lover would be strong, and would protect the weak. Her lover would command, and she would obey. Prettily._

_The meld, when it came, was clumsy and painful. Liara hissed as she felt Phora’s mind push past her barriers. Her first instinct was to block, but she stilled it, and instead opened to Phora’s probing. Liara wanted information, and if getting access to Phora’s mind meant opening her own memories, well, it’s not like she really had much of anything to hide. Yet._

_And then it was done. The biotic cuffs disappeared, and Phora nodded, what was near enough to a bow to be called so. Liara felt a sudden dizziness, and melted to the ground. “And so, Maid, I count you among the angels. Notice, ending a deep meld weakens you. It’s common enough among you purebloods, this dizziness.” Phora paused, then,  “For purebloods, melding is intense and exhausting, although uniquely exhilarating for your partners.”_

***

“…and I fell asleep. And when I woke, I was in bed in my suite in the main house, and when I finally checked my omni-tool, I found my acceptance from the Prothean Studies Program at University of Serrice. I hadn’t even told Benezia I’d applied. Phora must have met Aethyta at some point, but she shielded most of the memory. All I saw in the meld was a distant image, but it was enough to recognize Aethyta when I finally got to Illium.  But I learned who I was and who I wanted, and that I was willing to wait until I found her. And I did.”


	2. Mission:Kallini

_Mission: Kallini_

The asari colony planet Lesuss had always been a bit mysterious, a sparsely settled garden planet. Penetrating several layers of heavy local security, Glyph reported that the colony coordinates matched what appeared to be a monastery, and a fairly large settlement dedicated to sustaining it. And when Liara recognized matches to locations gleaned from centuries-old correspondence between Shepard’s Justicar and her two remaining Ardat Yakshi daughters – Falere and Rila, she had her answer. The distress call had originated in an Ardat Yakshi monastery, and an elite unit had gone dark investigating it.

_It was time, past time, really, to take a closer look at Shepard’s last encounter with an Ardat-Yakshi,_ Liara thought, _since it looks like we’ll be meeting her sisters._

The Shadow Broker went to work.  Glyph found old surveillance intel from Omega which revealed that despite her dismissive attitude, Aria T’loak had not been entirely indifferent to the demon’s arrival.  Even before the young human’s murder,  Aria’s personal logs showed that she’d ordered heightened surveillance of Morinth’s apartment and had carefully reviewed security footage from the Afterlife VIP lounge.

            Liara reviewed the vids from Afterlife itself, watching Shepard and Samara climb the steps past Aria’s bodyguards to her famous couch. Watching Aria’s expression closely, Liara could just see a subtle ripple of something - relief?  – in her scowl when she saw Shepard. With the sole exception of her father, every single asari Liara knew, including Aria, including even the cool Samara, found Shepard’s physical presence compelling. _We asari are drawn to power, to violence and command,_ Liara thought, _but it’s more than that. There’s something about Shepard, the spark, Samara called it. She ignites the firestorm._

Liara studied Aria’s body language. She had posed herself for the encounter with Shepard – alert but relaxed, her legs crossed to feign indifference, although the tension in her hands betrayed her. _Perhaps it’s just that we all need rescuing,_ Liara thought, _and Shepard is so very good at that_.

She watched Shepard lean in toward Aria, finding the intensity of her lover’s eyes riveting even in remove.  When Shepard asked about the Ardat-Yakshi, Liara was surprised to see Aria’s hard look shift, a slight drop around her mouth, quickly erased. “Nothing leaves a body so …empty,” Aria said softly, almost to herself.   _And how would Aria T’loak know something like that?_ The Shadow Broker wondered, making a note. 

Certainly, Aria had known that Morinth was a predator, and that she was hunting in the Afterlife VIP lounge.  And she must have had her suspicions regarding Morinth’s true nature. And she must have been nearly desperate when Shepard showed up.

Which was the other part of Shepard’s extraordinary magnetism – her ridiculously good timing. How is it that she always arrives at precisely the right moment?  Liara’s lips quirked, remembering her own first look at Shepard, the compact figure shimmering though the blue curtain of the Prothean containment barrier, her command voice sharp, but surprising in its genuine courtesy – _Let’s get you out of there._   Suspended and spread-eagled by Prothean shackles, frightened and dizzy, the strength in Shepard’s voice had rung Liara to her core, the whole situation bizarre, fated.

And Shepard!  Standing between Wrex and Garrus, Shepard had seemed tiny – vibrant, deadly, but too small. But then she proceeded to defy a Krogan Battlemaster and whirled into slicing, shattering combat, decimating a squad of geth and killing the Krogan, leading her team safely through a firestorm of bullets and biotics, escaping the collapse of the ruins just in time to jump aboard the Normandy with only seconds to spare.  

Her astonishing, miraculous timing. _The one I waited for._

***

Liara studied the vid of the Commander’s conversation with the murdered girl’s mother, and watched her search Nef’s room.

Samara. Liara sighed. Shepard could be adept at getting answers, but sometimes Liara wished she’d ask different questions. For instance, the father? Deep in the Shadow Broker’s archives, Liara had long ago discovered an inventory list of Samara’s estate that mentioned several holograms of the bondmate, but there were no copies of the images, and her name wasn’t given. _Another secret asari father,_ Liara noted sourly. She had Glyph scour Thessian medical and civil records for any traces, but the cultural shame surrounding the ardat-yakshi was motive enough for forgery and fraud; there was nothing else to go on but the correspondence between the Justicar and her daughters, and the lonely mention of those vanished family pictures.

Liara sipped her coffee and keyed up the vid of the conversation in the dead girl’s room. Samara looked ghostly, icy in the dim light. Describing Morinth’s tactics, her voice was seductive, her gaze hypnotic.  “Her body tells yours that she'll bring unimaginable ecstasy. Her scent evokes emotions long hidden. Her eyes promise you things you were always afraid to ask another. Her voice whispers to you after she is done speaking."

Liara shivered. But then Shepard shattered the spell with one of her stupid jokes  – “ _She sounds like my kind of asari_.”

            Liara gasped, nearly spilling her coffee. _Goddess, Shepard, to a Justicar? And what do you mean, YOUR kind of asari!?_ But in the vid, Samara appeared unperturbed, her face never losing its mask of alert stillness.

Liara watched the VIP Lounge security footage of Shepard prowling, looking for opportunities to attract the right person’s attention without revealing her true purpose.  _That was the tricky part,_ Liara thought.  Like other asari, Morinth would find Shepard _interesting,_ but could Shepard play the vulnerable target? Liara watched Shepard move to defend an asari dancer from a drunk, pawing turian.  Ordinarily, Shepard would have quietly defused the situation without a fight. But this was different – Shepard needed to demonstrate an enthusiasm and aptitude for violence, but not too much training. Liara watched as Shepard punched the turian, hard… in the wrong spot, rocking him back, sending him flying over a table, just missing the vulnerable neurological node between the turian’s chestplates.  Vicious but apparently unschooled. Very clever. 

Shepard was, Liara had to admit, an accomplished liar. Asari weren’t easy to fool – centuries of experience and exchanged memories gave them an edge. But even though Shepard had successfully charmed more than one asari with her earnest bumpkin act, she was unarmed, playing bait, trying to trap an Ardat-Yakshi – and not a reckless young huntress, but a vicious, fully mature demon – a sociopathic predator with thousands of murders. 

Watching Shepard warn a young journalist on an undercover assignment, the Shadow Broker narrowed her eyes and hissed as she recognized the thug Florit at the table. She made a note to find the young reporter. Perhaps they might arrive at some mutually beneficial arrangement – provided she had survived the Cerberus takeover. Liara needed more agents, and this girl had nerve. Then, as Shepard shuffled off the dance floor, a silhouette appeared against the wall, offering an appraising compliment and an invitation.  When Morinth finally stepped into the light, Liara paused the replay.

Her resemblance to the Justicar was astonishing, but when she resumed play, she realized it was really the differences that were disturbing. Morinth shared Samara’s features exactly – the same huge blue eyes and wide mouth, but where Samara’s gestures and expressions were measured, disciplined,  Morinth was in constant motion – grinning, claiming, testing – it was disorienting, really.

It was amazing that Shepard had been able to pull the whole ruse together from scraps, bits from the murdered girl’s diary, random chatter at the bar – just enough to drop a name or two, but not enough to threaten Morinth with actual expertise. And then the exchange about power being its own reward – was Shepard actually inviting Morinth to overpower her?

Liara cued up the vid from Morinth’s apartment. She already knew from reading the old Cerberus mission reports that Morinth had been unable to enthrall Shepard, and that Samara hadn’t been strong enough to kill her without Shepard’s help.  She suspected she would see what she had seen before. Shepard’s mental strength – her resolve, as the Illusive Man might say -  was almost beyond comprehension. The Prothean Beacon, Sovereign, death, none of them had managed to weaken her will or overcome her mind’s integrity. Watching as an ancient demon – Liara’s special nightmare – tried to take control of her lover,  Liara’s gut twisted as the camera captured Morinth’s blackened eyes, and she could almost see the thick, slick mental grab Morinth made as she attempted to force a meld.

“Don’t count on it.”

***

“ _Embrace Eternity…_ ” Liara remembered her first meld with Shepard, joining with her during the Therum mission debrief. What a fool she had been. She’d spent days trapped, hanging, threatened by menacing enemies, accused of treason and swept through a firefight and a daring escape, and she was exhausted and shocked. She had been desperate, reckless, and asari, and therefore superior, and arrogant. At the time, she couldn’t even imagine that there would be mental assaults a primitive human could survive that an asari could not - especially something like a simple memory.

Surrounded by a suspicious Normandy crew, bewildered by Shepard’s revelations about the fate of the Protheans, Liara was rocked by Shepard’s claim that the vision she’d received from the Prothean Beacon could support Liara’s thesis – that galactic extinctions were cyclical.

And if she had been able to be honest with herself, she would have had to admit to a compelling fascination with Shepard, the way she moved, her voice – the way she smelled, like iron and hope. Liara wanted to touch her, to know her more deeply. All scientific curiosity, of course, she had assured herself.

But sharing this particular memory had been perilous, and life-altering.  As the beacon’s chaotic scenes of death and battle stuttered and burned through their joined minds, Liara had found herself foundering, awash in a sea of blood and ravening jaws– swirling images and memories of violence and death surging and breaking against the clean intransigent spires of Shepard’s will. And when the end of the prothean vision appeared with its menacing dark dreadnaught, Liara knew what Shepard knew – the cycle of extinction had begun; the Reapers were coming. Having her mentors at the University dismiss her work had been crushing and demoralizing. But shown the proof of her theories, all she felt was sick terror.

But she also learned that Shepard was fascinated with her, too. At the very beginning of the meld, Liara had glimpsed a memory that glowed with significance. She recognized what the Consort had called a First Sight – the indelible first glimpse of the beloved, the image haloed in light. In Shepard’s mind, Liara saw herself - luminous, suspended and shackled, with the bluest blue eyes, and the sharp pulse of erotic energy Shepard associated with the memory had made Liara gasp. “She’s with me,” Shepard had sneered at the huge Krogan. By the Goddess…  

And finally, as the meld faded, the frayed edges of other memories – a violent childhood, an early enlistment, bloody battles and the wrecked bodies of squadmates…

She knew now how stupid she’d been, trying to share Shepard’s memory of the Prothean beacon without preparation; if Shepard had been less strong-willed, Liara could have been slammed into a coma by the mere echo of the alien warning. But later, alone in her quarters behind the medbay, she had wondered if Shepard knew enough about asari to notice if the effect of their joining had been “uniquely exhiliarating.” And later that afternoon, when Shepard had visited her, Liara had babbled like a fool – _either a genius or an idiot, perhaps both_ – but it hadn’t mattered; Shepard trusted her. 

Enough. There was nothing more here; she was daydreaming like a girl, Liara scolded herself. She paused, considering the mission brief Glyph had compiled. They were still between relays, several hours out from the Kalini system, and then there would be the FTL  hop to the system.  She keyed her omnitool. “Commander,” she said, a breathy purr in her voice, “do you have time for a private mission briefing?”


End file.
